When I'm with You: A Continuation of the Flint Saga
by Tiamat Drache
Summary: Set after Finding Myself, Marcus and Oliver Wood have a strange relationship for opposing Quidditch captains. A bit more comfortable with himself than before, he didn't expect to have to juggle a teammate's feelings and learn to comfort the scars that come with both Quidditch and relationships.


by Chihuatlan (Tiamat Drache)

Disclaimer: I do not own Marcus Flint or anyone in the Harry Potter series save my original characters. Also, I'm going to warn you about the content you find in these pages. Everything is rated R because of the content and subjects I touch on in these pages. This includes M/M and F/M as well as F/F a bit later on. Anyone who does not want to read something decidedly mature in nature, please just hit the back button. You have been warned.

"Hell! Bloody freakin' hell!"

I slammed the door to the shower stall, having shed my clothing after the match. It wasn't that we'd lost: we'd slain the Gryffindors by over a hundred points. But Reese Wistern, one of the Beaters under my command, had almost bludgeoned Higgs over the head in an attempt to dislodge Chantrelle from her broom. What was wrong with that? Chantrelle was on our team, his fellow Beater! Not only that but he'd been partially successful. The last I'd seen of Chantrelle, she'd been out cold on the Quidditch field.

I sighed as the warm water kicked in, washing away most of the match's aches and pains. What was I worrying about Chantrelle for? Because I bloody fancied her. She was the only girl besides Bletchley to survive a year on Slytherin's Quidditch team. She'd been here more than a year, since Swift was captain. That had been a horrible time for her, I knew. Swift had been the epitome of chauvinism. He'd encouraged Reese to harass her. Hell, he'd wanted to kill her. It had been hard to catch the two at their game: to openly accuse them of sabotage, of choosing to cause a fellow Slytherin injury. Swift, I knew what was up with him. He resented a girl who would challenge the male role by trying out for the Slytherin team, and it was only a technicality that had left her the only player available when Montague had been benched for failure to maintain his grades. I hadn't even seen that one coming, but Snape, head of Slytherin House had apparently taken offense to the fact that the grades which had suffered the most were in Potions of all things. So it was a surprise one night coming from my last class to find Swift and Reese mounted on their brooms in the Quidditch Pitch going over tactics with no one else but the new Beater: an underclassman I'd seen on the roster but figured she was either meant for the drop pile or the second string. Then I'd remembered that there was no drop pile for Beaters that year. She was the only applicant because of the difficulty of the position. Either that or she was, as Higgs hypothesized: crazy.

I still remembered watching what they were doing, how Swift had made sure that every bludger meant for him had somehow found its way into contact with her, whether it clipped her broom handle or interfered with her actions enough that I thought she'd be unseated multiple times. Reese wasn't any better, her fellow Beater was playing offensively, sending both Bludgers back her way whether she was ready for them or not. I'd watched, hating them both for what they were doing, not knowing what they were trying to prove. I had a mind to summon Madame Hooch right then and there, but knew that if I did so, I was only proving them right: that she was unable to handle them in her own right.

Just thinking about Chantrelle was enough to make me wish I had more than a handful of minutes to get myself together. It was like this every night, every day I was around her. I could barely control it in public, something Pucey and Higgs never let me forget. Still, it was something to be proud of. It was enough to make keep Byars occupied.

Byars, yes, Simon Byars. Simon Byars my roommate. He was part of my solution to my lonely single life. Oliver Wood was the other half. So was I gay? No, of course not. I admit the fact that I had never been completely straight, having been attracted to my father for the entire length of my life. Yes, my father, my fucking orcish father. Gatrassk Flint, ambassador to the human world, was my sire and confidante. He would have been my first choice as lover, but he had refused me, saying it would be adultery under human law; the incest part didn't faze him; it was part of his culture. How inconvenient.

After finishing my shower, I walked to my locker, dripping wet. Pucey shot me an appraising look, fondling the bulge in his jockeys. I smiled and shook my head. In my opinion, Pucey was about as straight as me, but he was holding out on actually admitting it. Pure stubbornness on his part, because he'd already made out with both Higgs and me at some point or another. I was still waiting for him to come crawling in to my bed some night. I could kick Byars out if he didn't want a threesome. The way his current relationship was going, that night wouldn't be long in coming.

"Do you want to join in?" I asked him, watching his expression turn a bit sad.

He shook his head and pulled on the rest of his clothes, a solitary tear falling from his eye.  
"I'm not gay, Marcus. I'm something, but I'm just not ready yet. Give Raven a chance before you sign me up for Cocksuckers Anonymous. I'm straddlin' the fence for now, but I can't let Raven know."

We stood there for a while, wondering what had just happened. So he was bisexual. So were we. I admitted it was hard coming out and saying it, but once you got over the embarrassment, it was a relief. I remember coming out to Mum and Da after first admitting it to myself. They'd been more than supportive. Apparently Adrian had found time to have a relationship that was separate from Quidditch. Don't ask me how this happened. I had enough to deal with without getting involved in his love life.

"Have to find... Wood." I announced, heading out. It was my turn to dominate him; we'd won the match after all. It was time for him to pay the piper.

I found Wood in the Infirmary, checking up on his injured teammates. I felt a slight twinge of guilt, knowing I should have been doing the same for Chantrelle at least. She did mean something to me, even if she didn't know what. I wished I would someday summon the courage to tell her how I really felt about her. But would she accept me? That was the million-dollar question. Would it be my orcish heritage or my bad-boy reputation that scared her off?

"Flint?" she asked a bit disbelievingly as she looked at me. I managed a weak smile and took her hand.

"How bad did he get you?"

"Just a concussion. Nothing I won't heal."

I felt arms around my waist and knew Wood had come up behind me. His warm breath caressed my ear, and I squirmed, not sure how Chantrelle would take it. Her eyes were closed now, and I looked at her in alarm, signaling for Madame Pomfrey. The head nurse took one look at her and checked her pulse, brow furrowed in intense concentration.

"I don't understand," she mumbled, "she should have healed by now."

Both Wood and I looked a bit puzzled at that. We'd both had our fair share of concussions, and they'd taken more than half an hour to heal. What was she talking about? But then she looked at us, seeming to realize we were there.

"You two shouldn't be here," she said, "your friend will be fine. You'll see her at dinnertime. Now shoo!"

"Oh Marcus! Oh, touch me!"

It was barely five minutes after going to see Chantrelle, but we'd managed to secure the empty classroom near Snape's. I was on top, of course, our lips locked together in a furious kiss. Who'd have thought it'd have come to this? The captains of rival houses locked together in an embrace. It had been pretty funny how we'd discovered our hidden fondness for each other. I'd been lying in wait for him one afternoon after a particularly discouraging practice, when I'd realized that Wood, the poster child for Quidditch saps everywhere, was crying.

I'd almost gone through with my intention to beat the living daylights out of him, which shows you how much of an asshole I was then. But I was curious, and I'd asked him what was wrong. He'd thrown a punch at me, which I easily dodged. I'd finally convinced him of my sincerity, and he'd explained his frustration. He was tired of being Mr. Perfect basically. It annoyed him that girls wouldn't leave him alone. He was interested in girls, sure, but he didn't know how to deal with them.

That had been our first experience together. I'd introduced him to something other than the touch of his own hand, showing him how to kiss. He'd been startled at first, almost fleeing from my arms. But I wasn't the only curious one... After kissing came making out, and other such debauchery followed. Then finally, one night he'd let me close the deal and introduce him to the other side of why I hadn't been able to figure out post-Quidditch frustration.

His eyes were closed as he savored the sensations I was causing inside his body. I closed my own eyes and let my thoughts drift as I tried to savor the feelings he awoke within. I was still on a bit of an adrenaline high from the game and my visit from Chantrelle. There had to be something I could do in that area. As her captain, it was my duty to make sure she was fit and able to play after games like the one we'd had today, and because Reese was very dense in recognizing that this was a new year, and that I was captain, there would have to be more aggression on my part, especially on the subject of how to handle hostile bludgers.

Chantrelle...

Oh how I longed to hold her, to feel even the slightest hint of affection from her. I realized that I'd probably have to make the first move, but I was so terribly afraid of rejection. There was just something about me that turned girls off. Since admitting to myself that I was bisexual, I hadn't minded much, but I felt every bit of my orcish heritage whenever I so much as thought of Chantrelle. Her body had inspired many a masturbation fantasy, and even the usually simple pleasure of shooting into my hand was pure ecstasy. The memory of her luscious lips and that sexy voice of hers would wrap around me like satin, bringing me to orgasm faster than anything.

"Marcus!"

I cried out, but I had been focusing on the problem before me, and not the person from whom I was taking my pleasure. For a second I forgot who I was with, and Chantrelle's name spilled from my lips, escaping before I even realized it.

Oliver stiffened as he heard it, and my eyes widened as I realized my mistake. A roar of rage burst from him, and he shoved me away from him. I was a bit stunned, to say the least. I'd never seen him this way before. I backed up, unsure of what to do. He rose from the desk, his face an angry storm cloud as he advanced upon me, finally pinning me against the wall.

"How could you say her name?" he rasped, fists clenched in rage, " You think of her? I'm not her: I can't bloody believe it!"

I sighed, "Wood, you know how I feel about her. I can't help it; she's everything I ever wanted. I just... I dunno... It just came out. I'm sorry."

He turned away, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he gathered his clothes. I got dressed in silence, angry at myself for letting this happen. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

"And another thing," he continued, sticking his finger in my face, "I don't hear you callin' her 'Drache,' why d' y' insist on callin' me by m' last name? It's Wood this and Wood that. I'm sick of it!"

He had me there. I didn't know why I did it. I'd always called the blokes that. It was the same for Pucey and Higgs and just about everyone I'd faced or partnered up with on the Quidditch field. Karen Bletchley was Bletchley, and Tybalt Montague was just Montague. Pucey, however, was the exception... His name just sounded too weird.

"And where're y' goin' now?" he demanded as I turned to leave, "Goin' to see that bitch?"

That did it. I turned, and before I knew it, I'd punched him square in the nose. Blood gushed from it, and I heard cartilage snap. Oh yeah, it was broken. I didn't care though. He would not insult Chantrelle in my presence. He'd just crossed the line.

"Goodbye, Oliver." I whispered, walking out the door. Even from the hallway I could hear his wrathful reply.

"Fuckin' orc."

"Heard Wood's in the Infirmary."

I just grunted as I tried to savor the still bloody steak on my plate. I didn't want to think of him anymore... Not today anyway. I just wanted to enjoy my dinner. It had taken me a long time to be able to keep even partially cooked food down, and it should have been a pleasant thing. But it was marred because of the events that had taken place.

"Marcus, he won't tell anyone what happened, but Higgs picked this up from the classroom they found him in."

I stared blindly at the object he held out to me. It was Ravage's whistle, the tool I used to teach him new commands. It'd been days since the demi raptor had needed it, but I'd always carried it around from force of habit. I just hadn't realized I'd lost it.

"Thanks, Adrian." I said, pocketing it.

I should have known that wouldn't be the end of it.

"Marcus, we know you broke his nose."

Higgs nodded grimly.

"Now why'd you do it?"

I sighed. Oh well... They'd have it out of me anyway.

"We shagged there, in the classroom. When he came, he screamed my name. I screamed for Chantrelle."

Higgs let out a low whistle.

"And?"

"He got sore and went off on me about her. Then he went too far and called her a bitch."

Adrian hissed, and something flashed through his eyes. Higgs shook his head.

"That was uncalled for. But, Marcus, I think you've got something else to worry about. I think he loves you."

I shook my head.

"I told him when we first started this that he couldn't fall in love with me. We had an agreement."

"Yeah, well, I think we need to get him a girl before he starts thinking about marriage. Who'd get to keep their last name? It'd be too confusing... What's his problem anyway? His track record could have been longer than Adrian's by now... This is unhealthy."

Here Adrian himself cut in.

"Speaking of unhealthy... Boy, we've got to do something about you and Chantrelle. You're bloody infatuated with her. And word has it that she wouldn't mind a go on your broomstick."

"Who told you that?"

"Her roommate. So let's test this out at the party tonight. She's already out of the Infirmary."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Adrian, I can't just go up there and talk to her."

"Why not? You're her captain. You do it all the time in Quidditch. Why's now any different?"

"It just is... In Quidditch, she's not gyratin' all over the bloody dance floor. 'Sides, what'll I say?"

"I like your technique? Nice stance on your broom?"

"Higgs! I'm serious!"

"So am I..."he muttered, looking away, "Oh come on, it's true! Whoa, hold on... Marcus, you'd better get over there. Looks like Montague's movin' in!"

I took a quick glance over to where the rest of the team was dancing, and my fists suddenly clenched in rage. Montague's arms were wrapped around the object of my obsession as he ground his pelvis into her backside. She was smiling as he guided her around the dance floor to the tune of the music. At that moment, I hated Tybalt Montague. Hell, I hated myself.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do in a situation with females. I ran...

The room was close enough that I could still hear the music, but it served my purpose. I sank down into the soft green leather of the couch, my head in my hands. So I was willing to break Wood's nose for calling her names, but I couldn't even challenge Montague for her? Hell, I couldn't even begin to talk to her.

The scent of cinnamon suddenly filled my nostrils, and I heard the door open and close. I looked up to see Chantrelle standing before me, a sad smile on her face.

"So why'd you leave? I was gonna ask you for a dance."

"What? You were? But I couldn't..."

"Why? Because you're my captain?"

"No... You and Montague..."

"Oh please. Montague's got his eye on a Ravenclaw. I'm just a diversion. So how bout it?"

I closed my eyes, trying to calm down, surprised she hadn't laughed outright at the idea of me dancing with her. It was like some cliche, that the beast of a captain she'd been saddled with would be a stammering, shy simpleton who couldn't begin to hold a candle to the graceful figure she'd presented on the dance floor. She deserved the truth, even as embarrassing as this truth was.

"I... can't dance."

"Well then I'll teach you. Come on, we can do it here."

And it really was as simple as that. She didn't laugh or jeer at me. I was actually about to have one of my fondest fantasies realized. She was right there waiting for me to give her my hand, for me to get my first dance lesson at her instruction.

I stood, and she positioned my arms around her. I was a bit surprised, not having realized that the song had switched to a slow one. It was a bit strange feeling her against my chest as we swayed to the music. The cinnamon scent was intensified, and I found myself getting hard as my body began to betray me. Great, that was the last thing I needed. Why hadn't I ever noticed how sexy she smelled?

"You smell nice." I said before I realized how stupid that sounded. To my surprise, however, she merely held me tighter, burrowing her face into my chest as the song ended.

"You do too, Flint. Thanks for the dance, cap'n."

"Thanks for teachin' me."

"Flint, I should smack you over the head! You had her alone; she was in your arms! She was practically screamin' 'Ride me, you numbskull!' You could have at least kissed her!"

"Adrian, she was just doin' her captain a favor. That's all."

"No, he's right, you rockhead. When she came back, Bletchley asked her if she got what she wanted. She smiled sadly and said no. She went up to her room right after that. Then I heard Snape mumbling something about giving you a month's worth of detentions for being so bloody dense."

That from Higgs. I wasn't sure if I should have protested when my mind agreed with the both of them. I would have given so much to be able to relive the events from last night. It had been so hard to get to sleep last night, when my brain kept giving me scenarios and reminders of how I'd had Chantrelle to myself after the dance. I should have been able to do something other than what I'd done: thanked her and been on my way. It wasn't like I'd had anything else to do that couldn't have been put off for another time. I could have taken advantage of my reputation. Surely everyone who was interested in me had expected something different. I swallowed, realizing that I could have at least asked her if she fancied me. That was it, there was no way I was going to let this opportunity slip away.

"That's it! I'll have no peace from either of you until I make a move with Chantrelle. Okay. You win. I'll speak to her after practice. Now, I'm going to my room, and then we'll go to breakfast. Settled?"

They nodded, pleased grins on their faces. Sometimes I hated best friends...


End file.
